You know, every now and then
I think you might like to hear something from us
Nice and easy but there's just one thing
You see, we never ever do nothing nice and easy
-Tina Turner
Last night I found myself sitting around a table with 12 members of my Team 1DOS Sharks Fenway Spartan Sprint team. Ah... Fenway. Such an iconic race for me. It was my first four years ago, fresh off an 85 pound weight loss, with no race experience whatsoever. It would be the scene of my first, not last, ugly finish line cry. Since that time, I have taken teams to 12 other Spartan Races and now I had once again brought a team of 5 newbies, and six more seasoned racers to Fenway. At the post race dinner, we would sit around, medals clanging, sharing adult beverages and excitedly trading war stories from the course. The newbies had a level of excitement I have come to expect at these things. One newbie, after conquering her absolute fear of heights (yes, she may in fact be my sister by another mother) was heard to say,"What a feeling! I can't wait to do it again!" Another newbie, was more quietly telling me it was going to take her some time to process what she achieved, as she has come so far in recent years. She was simply overcome. This is a quiet sentiment I have come to love as well. All of this was all made more special to me by the serving of a butterscotch bread pudding, complete with candle as I was reminded that this is the week I turn 50. It seems like such a big number, and me being me, had to take the time to see what else was turning 50. As it turns out, not only is my mother's iconic song,"Sweet Caroline" 50, so is "Proud Mary". To be all technical about it, really it's the CCR version that is 50, but Tina is more my jam. When I stop to think about the fifth decade of my life, there were so many things that yes were nice, but certainly not all that easy.
Left a good job in the city
Working for the man every night and day
And I never lost one minute of sleeping
Worrying 'bout the way that things might have been
At forty, I found myself leaving the comfort of my ten year career as a nurse practitioner in neurosurgery. For eight years, I had my trusted mentor. We worked very well together. We had a system and hit our groove with brain tumors and spine surgery every day. It was comfortable, and it worked. However, as I hit 40, we had moved to another state, the trauma group I joined had a brutal call schedule, put me in the OR assisting with traumatic brain surgeries in the wee hours, and a work life that no longer fell in line with home life. I suddenly had to worry about a whole career move, and the switch to the ER proved to be a steep learning curve.
Cleaned a lot of plates in Memphis
I pumped a lot of tane down in New Orleans
But I never saw the good side of the city
Until I hitched a ride on the riverboat queen
As I hit 45, we moved again, only by this time, I was comfortable in my emergency provider role, but would have the sudden realization I had placed myself in a box. Years of trauma parenting had taken a toll, I was obese, as until that point, food had been my lifelong coping mechanism. In a defining moment, I would suddenly realize what role my obesity played for all of those around me, and my part in keeping that role alive. It was fear of relationships changing, and learning to become the one thing I said I wanted to be, but in reality was terrified to become, thin. Nonetheless, it was time to fight the fear and get to work. The work was hard and the progress was certainly not a straight line to the top. I had a hip fracture that derailed my training for a bit, and two years ago suddenly lost my mom. Yet, despite it all, I held on for the ride that has now taken me within days of turning 50. Holding on for that not exactly smooth trek over the last five years has given me things I never thought I could have. I am fit and healthy, an avid racer with 14 Spartans, 4 half marathons and one full marathon behind me, telling me that I am way more capable than I ever gave myself credit for. Yes, my relationships changed, but gaining of 366 motivational clients and a foundation to help others achieve their own best versions of themselves has been fulfilling in ways I cannot even describe.
If you come down to the river
I bet you gonna find some people who live
And you don't have to worry if you got no money
People on the river are happy to give
As I looked around the table last night, it occurred to me that every single person at that table came from a different place, now digging into their own hard work and grabbing hold of their own riverboat queens. Each of them have had their own demons that kept them in their proverbial job in the city for decades never dreaming that they could be in this place. There were several, like me, that suffered lifelong obesity, another who had been caught in the opioid spiral for years better known as "pain management", now free and scaling walls instead. There were still others at that table, I would venture to say, fight battles we know nothing about, yet freely share their success, encouragement and experience as a way to pay it forward to the next person stuck in their own box.
Big wheel keep on turning
Proud Mary keep on burning
And we're rolling and we're rolling
And we're rolling on the river
Tell me one more time
Rolling, rolling, rolling on the river
One thing is for sure, not a single person at that table got there by staying in their previously determined comfort zone. They got there by busting out of their own box, fighting the fear of the unknown, putting in some hard work and grabbing hold of this thing we call life and absolutely giving it hell. As the rousing chorus of,"Happy Birthday" rounded out it was time for me to blow out the candle. Yes. I made a wish. I wished that big wheel better known as the next 5 years, will continue to turn the way it has in the last and Proud Mary will keep me rolling right on down the beautiful river as right now the view is fantastic. If the last five years is any indication of the next, I know that the best is yet to come.
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